


Dressed to Thrill

by mokuyoubi



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Costumes, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Halloween, Identity Reveal, M/M, Roommates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, boys being soft, prompt 236
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: Wade takes every aspect of Halloween very seriously, right down to the costume. So when he goes as Spider-Man, his costume isn't complete without all the accouterments. There's one person who can help with that, but is he ready to give up his secret identity like that?A Treat for Prompt #236





	Dressed to Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Treat for #236: Deadpool insists on dressing up as Spiderman for Halloween and Peter, taking the moment to subtly confess, gives him his spare pair of web shooters. The ones he never lets anyone use ever. How does Wade react? 
> 
> Thanks to Jennicide for cheerleading and beta-ing. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

It came as absolutely no surprise to Peter that Deadpool’s favourite holiday was Halloween. But he took it seriously, and dedicated himself to the spectacle. Starting October 1st, their place was decked out in purple, black, and orange twinkle lights, startlingly realistic bats and spiderwebs draped across the ceiling, and creepy silhouettes in the windows. 

When Peter arrived home after class, Wade had opened the door before Peter could even finish unlocking it, with a gigantic knife in hand and a manic grin on his face. The floor was covered in newspaper, a half-dozen gigantic pumpkins, and a professional carving set neatly spread out in front of the sofa.

“Time to go to work.” Wade imparted the words with gravity, handing over the carving knife. Peter accepted it with a dramatic bow and dove in whole-heartedly. 

Wade had made a whole night of it with spooky movies and take out and hot chocolate while they’d carved increasingly intricate designs in the pumpkins; Peter with more zeal than skill. Wade was, naturally, incredibly talented with a knife no matter the circumstances. His three pumpkins were carved in delightful detail--a gremlin, a tentacled eldritch abomination covered in eyes, and a startlingly life-like Chucky that freaked Peter out every time he stumbled upon it, half-convinced the thing was going to leap out at him.

And he’d kept it up the entire month. Dragging Peter all over the city to themed escape rooms, haunted houses, costume parties, and pop-up Halloween-inspired restaurant experiences. Peter was stupidly behind on his school work, but it was too much fun to put up much of a protest. 

More difficult, coming up with excuses to sneak out late at night for patrol when Wade would whine in protest. He was all grabby hands, pulling Peter back to the warmth of the sofa, snuggling up at his side. Pointing out how much nicer it was in here, watching a truly tragic horror movie, than going out for study groups or a blind date, or the whatever lie Peter had come up with that night.

When Deadpool first answered the Craig’s List ad for Peter’s roommate, it seemed all of Aunt May and Mister Stark’s fears about him being horribly murdered by a serial killer were coming true. And when Peter realised Deadpool was actually sincere about being roommates, well, desperation had led him to agree. Because for whatever reason, Wade, who had more than enough money to buy the entire building and then some, was more than happy to cohabitate this place and brought with him an insane 72 inch TV that practically took up the entire living room wall, along with every gaming system known to mankind and was generous in frequently providing all their meals while never asking for anything in return.

Even so, Peter knew that he had to guard his secret from Deadpool, no matter the cost. There was no way he could let him find out that he was Spider-Man. The result would be disastrous and potentially deadly.

As they spent more time together, Peter had at first begun to think of Wade as an entirely different person from Deadpool. The rambling, off-topic diatribes on 90’s cartoons or the merits of various cuisine or theoretical physics were pretty much the same. All general insanity and unpredictability. Peter was equally as likely to be woken in the wee hours of the morning to find Wade half dismembered and regrowing limbs on their THIRD SOFA THIS MONTH - WADE, WHAT THE FUCK, DO IT IN THE SHOWER?! - as he was to find him stricken with insomnia and seizing upon the opportunity to perfect his chocolate chip cookie recipe. Then he’d seat Peter at the island with a row of cookies, a tall glass of milk, and a blindfold.

But the manic edge Peter had grown used to as Spider-Man wasn’t there. Wade was softer, somehow. As Spider-Man, Peter had never felt entirely at ease in Deadpool's presence, like he could turn on him at any moment. So it was strange, how quickly Peter fell into a routine with Wade. How quickly his wall came down and he found himself venturing from his room to their shared space more and more frequently. He stopped jumping at every sound and locking his bedroom door at night.

Also, Wade wasn’t half the horndog he came off as in costume. At first, Peter had wondered if it was just him. Nervous, nerdy, awkward Peter Parker just didn’t ring that bell for Deadpool the way Spiderman’s spandex-clad ass did. But then the flirting picked up again. Far more subtle, but unmistakable. The teasing compliments, the way Wade fiddled with his hoodie pockets when they talked, the brief moments of eye contact from a guy who rarely even showed his face in the first place. And if all that hadn’t clued Peter in, the cuddling during movie nights certainly did the trick.

It wasn’t until Deadpool had shown up unexpectedly during patrol one night, and Peter’s Spidey Sense _hadn’t_ gone off, that he finally saw how wrong he’d been to think of him as a different person from Wade instead of seeing Deadpool’s frenetic manner for what it was.

Peter had realised that Deadpool wasn’t a threat to him at all, either as Spider-Man or Peter Parker.

Still, he’d been protecting his secret identity for over six years from all but his closest friends. Even then, he had never willingly revealed his secret to any one of them. They’d all discovered it on their own. Just thinking about saying the words made his throat close up and mouth dry out from panic no matter how guilty he felt about lying to Wade.

“But it’s Amityville, Petey,” Wade cajoled tonight, as Peter made his excuses,. “With Margot Kidder and Papa Brolin, too, not the shitty remake from the aughts!”

“There was a remake?” Peter asked, searching his memory, though nothing was sparking.

Wade flicked his hand through the air. “You’re not missing anything, Reynolds’ abs aside.”

Peter was, thankfully, already used to much of what Wade said not making any sense. “I gotta go, Wade. We’re supposed to study for my chem test. A test which, I’ll point out, I am woefully unprepared for because _someone_ insisted on dragging me to the Jekyll and Hyde Club last night instead of letting me do my reading.”

“Pshaw, like you’ve ever gotten less than a 96 on anything, smarty pants.”

Peter flushed at the fond way Wade said it, like it was a pet name. “98, thank you very much,” he said with dignity. “But I promised I’d come.” He hefted his bag higher on his shoulder. “Save Amityville for me tomorrow after class?”

Wade sighed in faux defeat. “Alright, alright.” 

As Peter made his way out, Wade began to sing softly, teasingly, after him, “I don’t have the right to ask where you go at night, but the waves hit my head to think someone’s in your bed.”

Peter rolled his eyes over his shoulder. “No one’s going to be in my bed tonight, not even me!”

Even away from the apartment, Peter was rarely out of Wade’s company. His phone buzzed all night long and every chance he had to take a break, looking out over the city from rooftops, Peter was apprised of Wade’s latest Halloween dilemma--his costume for the party at Xavier’s mansion on the night of the 31st.

_why can’t you just use any of the 756 you’ve already worn this month???_

_reuse a costume?!_ Wade texted back, along with a gif of Titus Andromedon at the computer, hand to his mouth in shock. _surely you jest!_

Over the course of the evening, he shot down Peter’s every suggestion as lame, uninspired, or beyond his ability to properly pull off. Because, as Peter well knew, when it came to Halloween, Deadpool didn’t half-ass anything.

“I’ve got it!” Wade told him cheerfully over breakfast--a pile of pumpkin flavoured pancakes with the most sinfully delicious bourbon barrel aged maple syrup. It was hard to be cranky over how little sleep he got most nights when Peter woke to exorbitantly expensive hand brewed coffee and a homemade breakfast.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Peter said blearily. The _it_ in question could as easily be a venereal disease as a some mythical Broadway bootleg of Streisand in Funny Girl.

“The perfect costume!” Wade was like a puppy in his enthusiasm. A misshapen, horribly disfigured, gigantic puppy.

Peter fought back against a yawn and lost. “Terrific.”

With a flourish, Wade reached down behind the table and pulled out a costume. A very familiar costume. And it was the real deal, too, not some costume shop knock-off. Peter almost choked on his coffee; it ended up coming out of his nose, a sensation he would not recommend 0/10, would not do again.

Wade patted his back roughly until the coughing and sputtering subsided. “Generally speaking, one swallows their coffee. But, to each their own.”

“Where did you get that?” Peter wheezed.

“Spidey keeps a spare in Stark Tower. Just had to sweet talk Jarvis into not ratting me out.” He held the garment up in front of him and gave Peter a game smile. “What do you think?”

“Um, for starters, I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

“I’m not gonna _wear_ it,” Wade said, and Peter sagged in relief. “That would be cheating. Just using it as a template. It’s all about the details, Petey.” This was spoken with a gentle bop of his finger over the tip of Peter’s nose.

Peter wrinkled his nose at the sensation. “And what happens when Spider-Man shows up to the party?”

“In his own costume?” Wade asked, aghast. “He’s not _that_ tacky. Besides!” He struck a dramatic pose at a three quarter turn to the back, hand on his hip, spine twisted, looking over his shoulder. It highlighted his narrow waist and the curve of his ass, still impressive even in sweats. “I’ll just show him how to _properly_ fill out his costume.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, even at his own expense. “Can’t argue with that.”

Wade smacked his own ass. “Damn straight. Only not. Straight, that is.”

Only now, Wade was obsessing over the authenticity of the thing. It wasn’t enough that he had Spider-Man’s actual costume deconstructed before him, and painstakingly recreated in his own size. No. It was Halloween, and Wade had to go the extra mile.

“How can I show up as Spider-Man without _web shooters_?” he moaned.

“Jesus Christ, Wade, literally no one has web shooters except Spider-Man. It’s like... do you expect little kids dressing up as Iron Man to build mini arc reactors and graft them to their chests?”

Wade shot him a steady, offended glare. “Yes!” he said, as if the mere suggestion otherwise was a personal insult. Then he immediately switched tactics, suddenly soft and wide-eyed, sidling up to Peter where he sat at the table with his homework spread out before him. “You’re a biochemist, Petey. How would _you_ do it?”

“You already stole his suit, why not steal his web shooters?” Peter almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

“I already looked,” Wade said, glum. “There weren’t any at the tower.” Once again, his mood shifted on a dime, all bright and bubbly. “Did you know even Stark’s tried to figure out the stuff for himself? J-man told me he can’t quite get it right.” He looked like he might burst with pride. “That’s my Spidey, almost as brilliant as my Petey.” He finished the declaration with a boop to Peter’s nose in punctuation.

Peter rubbed his nose absently, cheeks heating up from the praise. Never in a million years would he have imagined being held up against Spider-Man in comparison and coming out ahead. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true!” Wade chirped, as he skipped off back to his room. “Time to play with chemicals, kids!”

The door slammed shut, and Peter wondered vaguely how concerned he should be. On the grand scale of insane shit Wade had done in their apartment, attempting to make web fluid had to be pretty low, right?

*

Wade had invited Peter to come with him to the party, and it had taken more fancy footwork and excuses that fell flat to his own ears in order to turn him down. Spider-Man had his own invitation, and he was already juggling too many plates as it was to pull off coming with Wade as Peter, and Spider-Man to everyone else, _while also_ in a halloween costume. Just thinking about it made his head ache.

So he’d protested that it wasn’t right for some random civilian to come traipsing into a superhero party. There were still plenty who liked to keep their identity on the DL (even if they didn’t guard it as jealously as Peter did), who wouldn’t appreciate being exposed like that.

And Wade had responded with a soft look in his eyes and a gentle brush of his finger down Peter’s nose in what was growing to be a routine gesture. “You’re such a sweetie, Petey.”

Peter shuddered, caught somewhere between Wade’s eyes, and the low pitch of his voice, and how, more and more, that stroking touch to his nose felt like it was meant to be a kiss. If only that were allowed. He didn’t even remember what he’d said in response, only the way he’d escaped to his room, back pressed against the door out of some inexplicable fear that Wade might know what he’d been thinking and follow him.

The party was in a few hours. Peter’s own costume hung in the closet. When Wade had first stolen the Spider-Man suit, Peter had been tempted to respond in kind and steal one of Deadpool’s suits. At the time, it had felt too bold of an admission. Instead, he’d gone with Leia’s stolen Boushh disguise. Of course he’d known full well Wade could have come in and seen it if he’d wanted to. Showing up like that would immediately give him away but after all this time, he trusted Wade not to.

Even more than that, he trusted Wade to know.

And now... now he was considering this.

Peter unlocked the top drawer of his desk and rifled through it til he found what he was looking for. His spare web shooters, held in the palm of his sweaty hands. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. These were his most preciously guarded secret, for no one’s use but his own, and here he was, about to hand them over to _Deadpool_. He could practically hear what the Avengers might have to say about it.

But this charade was wearing thin. Peter couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to go on patrol with Wade along to have his back, to keep up running commentary the whole night, and go for tacos afterwards every time instead of those odd occasions when they managed to run into one another. What would it be like to have someone who knew about all the bruises and pulled muscles, ready at home with ice packs or heating pads or a needle and thread with a steady hand on those rare nights when a battle went too far? 

Peter drew his own finger down his nose and then lower, tracing over his lips in thought.

Wade was in the bathroom, the door left open, fiddling with his Spider-Man suit, tugging out all the wrinkles. He hadn’t yet donned the mask, or else this might just be too surreal for Peter. In the mirror, Wade caught Peter watching and offered him a cocksure grin. He spread his arms out to the sides and made a slow turn. Peter dutifully applauded. 

“I’m not sure anyone’s going to mistake me for the real thing, unless Spider-Man suddenly got stung by a bunch of bees.” Wade flexed his muscles pointedly. “Cause I’m super swole.”

Normally Peter would be rolling his eyes and making smart-ass comments but right now he was so nervous he might pass out. “Right, uh, it’s good.”

Wade glanced back at him, brow arched in concern, and then he looked down to where Peter’s fist was clutched against his chest. “Whatcha got there, Petey?”

“Oh!” Peter looked down at his own hand and then forced his eyes upward to meet Wade’s. “Um.” He managed to get one foot in front of the other, and then again, until they stood close enough together that Peter had to crane his neck up to hold Wade’s gaze. With his free hand, he reached out for one of Wade’s and brought it up between them to press their palms together, web shooters caught in between them. “Something to add a little veritas.”

Brow furrowed, Wade’s eyes flicked back and forth between Peter’s eyes and his mouth, then down to their joined hands. It took a second for Peter to make himself fully relinquish the shooters, squeezing Wade’s hand into a fist around them, and then taking a purposeful step backwards.

Wade’s fist unfolded in slow motion. The look of confusion on his face smoothed out in surprise and then realisation. “Peter.”

“Um.” Peter cleared his throat and reached out to point. “This part rests in your palm. You press here to shoot the web, and like this, to release.”

“Peter,” Wade said again. The man already had a deep voice and yet somehow it had gone even deeper. “These are the real deal.”

Peter nodded haltingly. “Yeah, and Mister Stark would kill me if he found out I let you get your hands on them instead of him. So _try_ not to be too obnoxious about it at the party tonight.” Somehow, amazingly, he’d managed to make his tone light and playful.

Wade was shockingly silent, and Peter gave him a hesitant nudge. “You still in there? ‘Cause I’m starting to worry I broke you, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Sorry, I’m having a real Clark Kent is Superman moment here. How the _fuck_ did I not see this?!”

Peter chuckled. “I gotta be honest, I’ve had about a million heart attacks in the last six months, thinking you had.”

Wade took a little shuffling step towards him, and Peter had to decide if he was going to step back or let it bring them chest to chest. In the end he held his ground, eyelids fluttering briefly as Wade brought up a gloved hand to his cheek. “Spidey,” he said, wonderingly.

Peter poked his chest. “That would be you, tonight.”

Wade’s thumb traced the slope of Peter’s nose down to the tip, and Peter tossed aside any further hesitation, going up on his toes and throwing an arm around Wade’s neck to pull him down. The first brush of their kiss was far gentler than Peter would have expected from Deadpool, an echo of those fleeting, familiar touches to his nose. 

Then Peter licked at the seam of Wade’s lips, and it got heated fast. Peter twining both arms around Wade’s shoulders, while Wade got two handfuls of his ass. Peter let himself be distracted for a long, searing moment before the sensation of webbed spandex beneath his fingers finally filtered in and he had to pull himself away, gasping for air.

Wade tried to chase his mouth but stopped short when Peter brought a hand to his lips. “I gotta get dressed for the party.” At Wade’s whine and the distracting shimmy of his hips, Peter managed to gather the willpower to twist free of his embrace. “Besides, you now have the most authentic Spider-Man costume out there. Can’t let that go to waste.”

“It was seriously tricky getting into,” Wade said, and Peter’s gave him an amusedly questioning look because it really wasn’t. “I might need help getting out of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Peter felt his cheeks go bright red, but he grinned widely all the same. “Well, I can definitely help you out there. I’ve got plenty of practice with that.”


End file.
